So, here I am the morning after writing a scathing lament about being alone with the brand new Baby Bump, my very own Porter Price, in the NICU. Here I am, washed out. I hid out at a local coffee shop last night for a few hours. I had words with Jared, to put it nicely. I cried myself to sleep last night. I want to be a nice person, I really do. But the reality is, I’m not. I hold grudges. I never forget anything, ever. I rarely forgive. Here we are, seven summers after that NICU nightmare, and I still feel the pain like it’s happening right now. I relive the fear. I ache with loneliness. I sorely miss the women on my messageboard who were my rock that summer. Once, that bitty alien baby was the baby in that scary picture I posted yesterday, the one where I was holding my firstborn for the first time and he was screaming from the pain of being cold. I was just about as equally uncomfortable at the time, terrified I would hurt him. You know what my worst fear on taking Porter home was? I was afraid of holding […]
